Status: Slowly Active.
I Hope They Taste of Me Forever
Chapter One
Hi. My name is Kylie Evans. I am short and small. My hair is short, choppy and black. My eyes are brown. I live a completely normal life. I’m in my final year at high school, where I go every day before coming home to my loving parents and older brother in our big house. My life is perfect.
NOT
Okay, let’s start again. I’m Elle Williams. I am tall and thin. My hair is long, light brown, and highlighted blonde. My eyes flicker from bright blue to grey, but I can’t remember the last time I saw them blue. I don’t go to school. Not anymore. I was in my freshman year when – clichéd as it sounds – my life was changed forever. So here’s the story.
I was out on a date with this guy. I can’t even remember his name anymore, it’s so insignificant. My first date means nothing to me. So anyway, I was out with him and when I got home, it was no longer my home. It was just a house. As soon as I walked in, I knew something was wrong. Everything was so quiet. No clattering in the kitchen of my mom cooking. No buzzing from the TV to signify my dad channel surfing. No annoying drums being played by my twenty year old brother still living at home. Just silence. I hate silence. This was the deafening kind, you know? When it’s too quiet to be quiet.
I cautiously walked into the kitchen, and saw a sight that should never have to be endured by anyone. Especially not a young kid of fourteen, which I was then. I saw my parents. Dead. I saw their corpses. But it wasn’t as it may seem. There was no sign of a struggle. There was no broken furniture, or shattered glass, or blood spurted all over the room. My parent’s faces weren’t grotesque or horrified. They were just dead. They were unbelievably pale. And cold. Yes, cold. Even facing that, I went ahead and touched the dead bodies. I tried to hold their hands, hoping in vain that they’d squeeze mine back and wake up. They didn’t. Their eyes were closed, and they lay side by side, their hands lying an inch apart. I wondered if they were holding hands for their final moments. I wondered if one of them had to endure watching the other die before they met the same fate. There were no clues. If anything they looked… peaceful.
At first I started freaking out, thinking they’d committed suicide. I began tearing myself apart inside for everything I’d ever done that could have possibly driven them to killing themselves. I sat in the corner of the impeccably clean family room/kitchen area, knees hugged tightly to my chest and tears falling swiftly and silently as my world came crashing down around me.
My brother walked in around an hour after I did. His tears began falling immediately as he rushed over to our parent’s side. He barely registered my huddled form in the corner. After around 30 seconds of staring at them, he took in a sharp breath. I glanced at his face, and he looked positively terrified.
“What is it?” I had asked him anxiously, moving towards my family in the middle of the room.
I followed his petrified gaze to my mother’s neck, and I gasped too. On the side of my mother’s neck, about an inch apart, were two small puncture marks, slightly swollen and glistening red. I looked over at my father and saw exactly the same marks in exactly the same positions. How had I missed it before? I don’t know. I must be the least observant person in the world, but I still blame grief.
Ever since that night, my brother has had one objective in his life and one objective only. That’s right. Revenge.
My brother is Matt Williams.
Never heard of him?
Well vampires have.
Up until that night, vampires were a myth. A common indulgence for novelists and script writers. Now they exist more to me than humans do. My brother, over the last four years, has earned himself a fierce reputation as an accomplished vampire hunter.
As for me? Well, school was clearly out of the question. As strange as this sounds, I go with my brother hunting, but I’m not allowed to hunt. Matt won’t leave me alone at home, which is now a two-bedroom apartment (vampires clearly knew where our house was and there were too many painful memories there), but I can’t fight. I may be tall, but I’m weak. I know I am. I don’t stand a chance against most humans, let alone the supernatural powers that vampires possess. But even if I could fight, Matt wouldn’t let me.
I am Matt’s only family now and he is mine. We never used to get along really well, but we didn’t hate each other. We just didn’t speak to each other much, I guess. We still don’t, but our bond is stronger. I know he cares about me, but I don’t think that’s the only reason he doesn’t want me to fight. I don’t think he wants us to be known as a pair. ‘Partners in Crime’ or whatever. He wants to be the one that they fear. He wants to be the one known for his quest for vengeance. Him, not us.
That’s something else about me. I may sound like the sort of person who never shuts up, but this is all in my head. I don’t speak much anymore. Some things just change a person. The death of you parents caused by supposedly non-existent creatures is one of those things.
I suggested once to Matt that we leave Chicago, but he wouldn’t have it. Not for a second. Even if my some miracle we did cleanse the whole city of its vampire infestation, I’m not sure if he’d leave. Chicago is our home. It always has been, and probably always will be.
I’ve watched Matt vanquish thousands of vampires in the past four years. I know that vampires killed our parents, and I understand Matt’s ‘task’. But what I don’t understand is how he can kill so easily. Regardless of everything. Truthfully, I’m scared of him when he’s in hunting mode. His eyes go black as coal and any compassion he has left disappears. Sometimes I am more afraid of him than I am of the vampires he’s hunting. When he’s hunting, he may as well be one of them.
Mostly, Matt gets the ‘street vampires’ or the ‘hood vampires’. Yeah, don’t ask me. Apparently they’ve got all these names. There seems to be one group more influential than the rest. More dangerous. More of a threat. They call themselves the ‘Dandies’. I don’t know much about them. “The less you know, the less you’ll get hurt.” Matt says. All I know is they’re smart. They’re good fighters. They don’t just kill anyone. They strategise. They wear stupid suits and stupid hats that look ridiculously fancy. They’re malicious. They’re evil. And they have a leader. Matt’s killed a few dandies before, but not many. Ten tops. They were definitely the most challenging for him. But if anything, the Dandy population just rises. We haven’t even scratched the surface.
And me, weak pathetic Elle, never will.
NOT
Okay, let’s start again. I’m Elle Williams. I am tall and thin. My hair is long, light brown, and highlighted blonde. My eyes flicker from bright blue to grey, but I can’t remember the last time I saw them blue. I don’t go to school. Not anymore. I was in my freshman year when – clichéd as it sounds – my life was changed forever. So here’s the story.
I was out on a date with this guy. I can’t even remember his name anymore, it’s so insignificant. My first date means nothing to me. So anyway, I was out with him and when I got home, it was no longer my home. It was just a house. As soon as I walked in, I knew something was wrong. Everything was so quiet. No clattering in the kitchen of my mom cooking. No buzzing from the TV to signify my dad channel surfing. No annoying drums being played by my twenty year old brother still living at home. Just silence. I hate silence. This was the deafening kind, you know? When it’s too quiet to be quiet.
I cautiously walked into the kitchen, and saw a sight that should never have to be endured by anyone. Especially not a young kid of fourteen, which I was then. I saw my parents. Dead. I saw their corpses. But it wasn’t as it may seem. There was no sign of a struggle. There was no broken furniture, or shattered glass, or blood spurted all over the room. My parent’s faces weren’t grotesque or horrified. They were just dead. They were unbelievably pale. And cold. Yes, cold. Even facing that, I went ahead and touched the dead bodies. I tried to hold their hands, hoping in vain that they’d squeeze mine back and wake up. They didn’t. Their eyes were closed, and they lay side by side, their hands lying an inch apart. I wondered if they were holding hands for their final moments. I wondered if one of them had to endure watching the other die before they met the same fate. There were no clues. If anything they looked… peaceful.
At first I started freaking out, thinking they’d committed suicide. I began tearing myself apart inside for everything I’d ever done that could have possibly driven them to killing themselves. I sat in the corner of the impeccably clean family room/kitchen area, knees hugged tightly to my chest and tears falling swiftly and silently as my world came crashing down around me.
My brother walked in around an hour after I did. His tears began falling immediately as he rushed over to our parent’s side. He barely registered my huddled form in the corner. After around 30 seconds of staring at them, he took in a sharp breath. I glanced at his face, and he looked positively terrified.
“What is it?” I had asked him anxiously, moving towards my family in the middle of the room.
I followed his petrified gaze to my mother’s neck, and I gasped too. On the side of my mother’s neck, about an inch apart, were two small puncture marks, slightly swollen and glistening red. I looked over at my father and saw exactly the same marks in exactly the same positions. How had I missed it before? I don’t know. I must be the least observant person in the world, but I still blame grief.
Ever since that night, my brother has had one objective in his life and one objective only. That’s right. Revenge.
My brother is Matt Williams.
Never heard of him?
Well vampires have.
Up until that night, vampires were a myth. A common indulgence for novelists and script writers. Now they exist more to me than humans do. My brother, over the last four years, has earned himself a fierce reputation as an accomplished vampire hunter.
As for me? Well, school was clearly out of the question. As strange as this sounds, I go with my brother hunting, but I’m not allowed to hunt. Matt won’t leave me alone at home, which is now a two-bedroom apartment (vampires clearly knew where our house was and there were too many painful memories there), but I can’t fight. I may be tall, but I’m weak. I know I am. I don’t stand a chance against most humans, let alone the supernatural powers that vampires possess. But even if I could fight, Matt wouldn’t let me.
I am Matt’s only family now and he is mine. We never used to get along really well, but we didn’t hate each other. We just didn’t speak to each other much, I guess. We still don’t, but our bond is stronger. I know he cares about me, but I don’t think that’s the only reason he doesn’t want me to fight. I don’t think he wants us to be known as a pair. ‘Partners in Crime’ or whatever. He wants to be the one that they fear. He wants to be the one known for his quest for vengeance. Him, not us.
That’s something else about me. I may sound like the sort of person who never shuts up, but this is all in my head. I don’t speak much anymore. Some things just change a person. The death of you parents caused by supposedly non-existent creatures is one of those things.
I suggested once to Matt that we leave Chicago, but he wouldn’t have it. Not for a second. Even if my some miracle we did cleanse the whole city of its vampire infestation, I’m not sure if he’d leave. Chicago is our home. It always has been, and probably always will be.
I’ve watched Matt vanquish thousands of vampires in the past four years. I know that vampires killed our parents, and I understand Matt’s ‘task’. But what I don’t understand is how he can kill so easily. Regardless of everything. Truthfully, I’m scared of him when he’s in hunting mode. His eyes go black as coal and any compassion he has left disappears. Sometimes I am more afraid of him than I am of the vampires he’s hunting. When he’s hunting, he may as well be one of them.
Mostly, Matt gets the ‘street vampires’ or the ‘hood vampires’. Yeah, don’t ask me. Apparently they’ve got all these names. There seems to be one group more influential than the rest. More dangerous. More of a threat. They call themselves the ‘Dandies’. I don’t know much about them. “The less you know, the less you’ll get hurt.” Matt says. All I know is they’re smart. They’re good fighters. They don’t just kill anyone. They strategise. They wear stupid suits and stupid hats that look ridiculously fancy. They’re malicious. They’re evil. And they have a leader. Matt’s killed a few dandies before, but not many. Ten tops. They were definitely the most challenging for him. But if anything, the Dandy population just rises. We haven’t even scratched the surface.
And me, weak pathetic Elle, never will.